Hurt no more
by Jodym134
Summary: This is just a one shot to do with Ronnie and what we found out in the live show. Just summat i came up with in the early hours of this morning!


_I remember the day so clearly. The day it all started. The day my father first abused me. Things hadn't been right with him and mum for a while. They argued a lot. I tried to ignore it, to get on with things, mainly for Roxy's sake. She was only 7. One night, it was just me and him at home. Mum had taken Roxy to the cinema. I stayed in my room the whole evening. I couldn't bare to be in the same room as him. He was a very angry man, and he scared me. Roxy was his little girl, his little princess. The golden girl. Anything that happened, it was my fault. He always blamed me. That night, I was led in bed when he crept into my room. He sat on the edge of my bed just staring at me. I pretended to be asleep, I thought I was going to be told off for something. He got closer and closer to me. He stroked my hair and I flinched. He knew I was awake…but I never once opened my eyes. His hands ran over my whole body as tears escaped my eyes. I prayed it was all a dream, but I knew it wasn't. When he had finished with me, he moved the hair from my face and whispered in my ear. ''you made me do this''. He said this every single time it happened. Every time he abused me. Even just thinking about it makes me physically sick_.

Roxy had seen me throw the paint at the billboard with his picture on it. Now she was accusing me of murder. I didn't kill my dad. I'd thought about it., many of times, but it wasn't me. I didn't kill him. I told her what he did to Stacey and what he had done to me. She didn't believe me, or just chose not to. I'm not sure.

''_Because he's done it before……to me''_

Why did I have to tell her. I saw the way she looked at me. Like she thought I was lying. Pure hatred searing from her eyes. I'd never seen that from her before. That's why I had to get away from her. I had to walk away because I couldn't handle it. That's when I came upstairs. I ran to the bathroom, and vigorously scrubbed the paint from my hand. So much so that my hands were red raw and began to sting. That's when I escaped to my bedroom.

I sat cross legged on my bed. The room was dark with only the faint serge of light forcing its way through the gap in the curtains from the street light outside. I slumped forward with my head in my hands, crisp tears stinging the corners of my eyes as they escaped. The lump in my throat ever expanding as I tried to control myself. I put my hand to my mouth as I wept. I didn't want to be heard. I was shaking as I curled up in a ball, with my arms around my legs, in the middle of the bed. I felt safe here. You see, outside these four walls, I'm petrified. My life has constantly been consumed with one secret after another, and I had just let slip to Roxy the biggest secret of all. My longest kept secret.

''_Tell me its not true''_

I wish I could tell her it wasn't true, but she knew now. Whether she believed me or not. I had told her. This women, who I had looked out for, been there for, fought for, since the day she was born was stood in front of me, basically telling me I was lying. It felt like my heart was being wrenched out. My own sister could not believe me. Beyond the grave my father was still hurting me. I still laid there, curled in a ball. My own protection. I couldn't muster up the courage to speak. I fixated my vision on my shoes near my bed. I couldn't look her in the eye. I was ashamed. Ashamed of what he had done to me. Ashamed of what I had become, and ashamed that I had told the only person I had ever tried to protect.

''_Just let me get out….let me get out''_

I wanted to escape. I wanted to be alone, but Roxy just stood staring at me. Shouting at me. It seemed so distant as I zoned in and out. I tried to walk away, but she wouldn't let me. Her strength was, for the first time in my life, greater than mine. She grabbed my wrist and restrained me from leaving. How could I have been so stupid. Why did I tell her. If I'd have kept my mouth shut, then this wouldn't be happening. My sister wouldn't hate me, but she will never hate me as much as I hate myself.

''_You are sick''_

These words echoed in my head. I was sick. Very sick….but he had made me this way. I wish it _**was**_me that killed him. I really do. Then I'd have had some sort of revenge. He ruined my life. He raped me. He took my daughter away. He lied to me when she came to find me. He caused me to miscarry my second child. He did all of this to me, he destroyed me, and yet Roxy could still never see the bad in him. I could never get my head around it. I just wanted the world to swallow me up there and then. She walked away thinking I was a liar. I didn't have the energy to follow, to argue with her. It didn't matter anymore. Even if she did believe me, it wouldn't make it go away. I lay in bed each night, too afraid to sleep. Too afraid to close my eyes, because every time I do, I can see his face, I can sense his warm breath on my skin, I can feel his touch. It haunts me. He haunts me. Even now that he is dead, I'm petrified of him. Scared, just like I was when I was 11. Just like I was every time he even so much as looked at me. He told me it was my fault. I believed him. Still to this day I blame myself. Blame myself for not having the courage to speak out before. If I did, then maybe he wouldn't have done it to Stacey, and maybe id still have my baby sister.

Sat on my bed, my head filled with dark thoughts. After everything that had happened, and now my sister hating me, what else did I have to live for. I stood up, unaware of how slowly I was moving. Every inch of my body ached as I dragged one foot in front of the other until I reached the bathroom. I locked the door behind me. Staring at myself in the mirror, I hated what I saw. I disgusted myself. I opened the little cabinet, rummaging through looking for pills strong enough to take my pain away for good. There was hardly anything in there. Just a couple of paracetamol, some Vick, and a some vitamins. My head was spinning. I wanted it to be over. Out the corner of my eye, I saw Phil's tool box. He had brought it up here this morning when he was trying to fix the shower. I searched through it as quietly as I could. I didn't want to be heard. I didn't want to be stopped. I just wanted to punish myself.

In the bottom of the box, I found a pack of blades. I sat on the floor and braced myself for what I was about to do. I wasn't scared. Not one bit. I pulled out one of the blade. It was so cold and shiny. I twiddled it between my thumb and index finger for a couple of seconds and just stared at it. I was unaware that the corners were digging into my skin. I couldn't feel a thing. Now was as good a time as any. I wanted it over and done with. This wouldn't be the first time I ever self harmed. Only this time, I didn't intend to stay alive.

I slowly dragged the cold object through one of the scars on my wrist. Blood seeped from it instantly. For a moment, I had forgotten everything. I was entranced in the sight of my own blood trickling from my wrist onto the floor. As the pain started to subside, I sliced again. Trying to get even deeper than the previous. I could hear Roxy in the kitchen. She was crying. Id done this to her. It was all my fault. Guilt racked my brains. She was better off without me. The whole family were. I continued slicing and slashing at my arms. Blood was pulsating out of them, but it still wasn't enough. I was still alive and I didn't want to be. Next came my legs. I took a deep breath, and as I exhaled I muttered _'its true'_._ Suddenly the room began to spin. My vision became blurry. Tears glazed over my eyes as I could feel myself slipping. Slipping into complete darkness. My blood smothered body flopped, causing an almighty bang as my head hit the floor. I could hear the sound of someone running in the distance. It was getting closer. The bleary sounds of someone hammering on the door were echoing in my brain. Seconds later the door flung open, crashing into my legs. Then there were screams, the type that send a shiver down your spine and give you goose bumps, only I couldn't feel a thing. It was too late. I was gone. I had finally succeeded. He couldn't hurt me anymore. _


End file.
